


Hellebores and Red Primroses

by RaspberryNinja



Series: Defying Gravity [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Asexual Raphael Santiago, Attempt at Humor, Daylighter Simon Lewis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Good Friend Clary Fray, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Oblivious Simon Lewis, Other, Pansexual Simon Lewis, Pining, Raphael is an asshole without really meaning to be, Sharing a Bed, The betrayal never happened, simon is so confused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryNinja/pseuds/RaspberryNinja
Summary: Overthrowing Camille was supposed to be the last of Raphael's problems.But it wasn't.Because now, thanks to Camille, he had to deal withSimoninstead. Simon Lewis, who was loud and annoying and endearing all at the same time, who was just as stubborn and rebellious and headstrong as he was, who refused to yield to even the simplest rules, who was too brain dead to understand the concept of self-care no matter how many times Raphael drilled it into his head.Simon Lewis, who Raphael was madly in love with but couldn't do a damn thing about it because the Fates were cruel like that.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Isabelle Lightwood/Maia Roberts, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago
Series: Defying Gravity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137788
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	1. Battered and Bruising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story picks up from season 1 episode 12.
> 
> In the show, just as Simon was about to leave the Institute after the Malec wedding twist, Clary stops him and asks for his help finding the Book of the White. Though Simon isn't completely on board with the idea, he agrees. For Clary's sake. 
> 
> But what if Clary and Simon had taken just a little more time to think things through before they settled on a final decision? What if the whole thing had been just a little less rushed and a little more cautious? 
> 
> It had been such a major, life-changing decision for Simon. He should have been given more time to make a decision. The episode should have taken place at a much slower pace. So what if Clary had texted Simon to come to meet her at Taki's instead? What if they had made an actual effort to talk and understand each other the way best friends usually do? 
> 
> What would change? What wouldn't?

"FRAY!!!"

From halfway across the packed, overcrowded restaurant, Simon grinned delightedly as he watched Clary jerk up in surprise before whirling around to glare at him. He waved her over to their table, casually ignoring her apparent frustration. Clary's shoulders slumped forward resignedly and she plodded over to where he was sitting.

"Clary!" Simon greeted pleasantly, his trademark cheer and optimism failing to dampen despite the fact that it was almost 3:00 am. She had texted him earlier that evening, asking him to meet her at Taki's. She didn't mention why. "You are late, my friend."

Clary smiled apologetically. She flopped down on the seat opposite Simon's, her movements tired and sluggish. Simon slid a plate of curly fries that he had ordered for her and cupped his hands around his cup of caffeinated O-neg. Clary stared at the fries with a wry smile, but made no move to touch them.

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. "We were busy doing some research at the Institute's library and I kinda lost track of time."

Simon stilled. Because he knew Clary like the back of his hand, he could easily pick up on even the most subtle shifts in his best friend's moods.

Something was wrong. 

Clary had always been a tough girl; her steadfast persistence and grit may have rivaled her small size, but she was strong and obstinate and nothing could possibly come in her way once she set her mind on something. Simon admired that about her without feeling envious, but often wished that he was more like her, that he didn't crumble so easily in the face of adversity.

But now, judging by the bags under her eyes, the slight frown on her forehead, and the residual sheen of moisture in her red-tinged eyes, she was obviously sleep-deprived, stressed, and _miserable_.

Then again, who could truly blame Clary for being mserable?

After being shoved into the Shadoworld without any preamble, she had just found out that her biological father was, unfortunately, not dead anymore. Worse, that asshole turned out to be a psychotic, bigoted Shadowhunter with a zero-tolerance policy towards anybody even remotely connected to demons.

Valentine Morgenstern had been nothing but trouble from the very beginning, _obsessed_ with the idea of 'cleansing' the world of Downworlders. The Mortal Cup was in his hands, giving him the power to raise an army of 'new' Shadowhunters that were only too willing to raze the world to the ground.

Her mother, the only family she had ever had, was now in a coma. Her Soulmate was right in front of her, yet Jace was the one person in the world she could _never_ have as a soulmate.

People kept staring at her with a mix of distaste and hatred and awe and wonder. Every time she stumbled upon a solution, _something_ would go wrong; more and more of her morale would chip away, leaving her raw and desperate.

Her face was pale and drawn, her lips dry and chapped. She was barely eating anything, which was crazy considering that a few months ago, Clary would have _killed_ for a plate of curly fries. She was the one who had called him to Taki's, but she had hardly said anything to Simon despite the fact that they had been together for more than ten minutes now.

Sure, it was awkward but more importantly, he was _worried_ for her.

Clary was clearly going through one of the toughest times in her life and Simon's dead, unbeating heart went out for her. He wondered if there was a way to let her know that she wasn't alone in this war, that Simon would be there for her at every step along the way, without making it seem like he was being overprotective or fussy.

"Clary?" Simon's voice was hushed and solemn. He reached out to place his hands over Clary's, giving them a supportive squeeze. His skin was many shades lighter than hers. "Hey, if something's wrong, you know you can tell me _anything_ , right? I will be here to help you out in whatever way I can."

Clary's hand was still in his grip, unresponding. She wasn't even looking at him, her downcast eyes fixed determinedly on her coffee. Her voice was hollow and desolate when she said, "I am fine, Simon. You worry too much."

"Okay, now I am worried that you don't know the definition of 'fine'." He took a deep breath and blew out through his hands. "Clary, I know that life has been crappy lately and things just seem to be getting worse and worse but we gotta keep it together, alright? We can't afford to—"

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" Clary snapped, raising her bloodshot eyes to his as she banged the table with her fists.

Simon flinched back, startled by the sudden, unfamiliar anger in her emerald eyes.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "How would _you_ be doing if your Soulmate was your freaking _brother_? What would you do if disgust and revulsion are all you see in his eyes?" She swiped an arm across her face. "Would you be able to 'keep it together' if your mom was in a _coma_?"

The abrupt and uncalled mention of his mother sent a sharp stab of pain straight to his heart. He blinked back a sudden onslaught of tears.

"I would...I would be in pieces," he whispered, averting his gaze as he tried to swallow past the lump that had lodged in his throat. "Sorry."

Clary bit her lower lip, looking distraught and devastated.

_So much for trying to cheer her up._

She looked down at her drink again and began taking deep hiccupping breaths to compose herself. "No, don't be sorry. It's not your fault. It's Valentine's." She stabbed her food viciously as if it had personally offended her somehow. "And I will make him pay for doing this to my mother. When I am done with him, he's gonna wish he never _existed_ in the first place."

Simon nodded encouragingly, wishing fervently that there was something more he could do for Clary. But no, he was just a dumb and useless vampire who couldn't even walk in a straight line without tripping over himself.

"What did Luke say about Jocelyn? Can the Silent Brothers do anything?" Simon asked, setting down his unfinished O-neg on the table. He didn't have much of an appetite anymore.

Clary shook her head glumly. "No. She's in a magical coma, Simon. Nobody knows how to cure her. Not even the Silent Brothers."

Simon patted her shoulders. "We can fix this, you know?"

Clary narrowed her eyes, looking dubious and tepid, like she had heard the same thing before and she was tired of banking on false hope.

But no, that won't do.

Simon's grip on her shoulders tightened, forcefully turning her around to face him. "I mean it, Clary. Tomorrow's a Saturday, yeah? I don't have to deal with any of that Advisor shit, which means I could just come over to the Institute and we could go through all the books in the library again. If we look hard enough, I'm sure we can find a cure for Jocelyn. Things will start looking up once we wake her up."

Clary stared at Simon for a long moment, her scrutinizing gaze searching Simon's face for any signs of hesitation or doubt. She looked away after a while, her gaze hardening. "There's no need, Si. We already figured out a cure."

Simon's eyes widened at the unexpected revelation. "Wait, what?" he exclaimed, his jaw dropping, disbelief coloring his voice. "Clary, That's _amazing_. This is great! Why didn't you say anything before? Now that we know the cure, we could just—"

"There's a spellbook called the Book Of the White," Clary stated in a monotone, but Simon knew her well enough to sense the undercurrent of emotion in her words. "Magnus thinks that the Book of the White might have the cure to save my mother. But he doesn't have it with him."

Simon shook his head. "Once again, this. Is. Amazing. And it's definitely better than nothing." He couldn't understand why she was so bummed out. "Now we just need to find out where it is or who has it."

"We already know where it is. That's the problem." She closed her eyes, her hands clutching the edges of their table so hard that her knuckles were white, a little muscle jumped at the side of her cheeks. "Magnus says that the book's current owner is..."

Simon smiled encouraging, gesturing at her to go on.

"...Camille Belcourt," Clary finished, biting her lips worriedly as she carefully watched Simon's face for his reaction.

Simon had no idea what face he was making. All he knew was that all of a sudden, he felt the temperature of his surroundings drop down by about twenty degrees. Simply hearing Camille's name made his skin crawl with goosebumps, a metal fist clenching around his belly. It took him a few tries before he could start speaking again, and a few more to give her an actual, coherent answer.

He cleared his throat, gazing down idly at the glass-topped table, his breath clouding the surface. "You are not serious."

" _Dead_ serious," Clary said with conviction, her green eyes dark with rage and resolution.

"Maybe there's a mistake. After we locked Camille up in the basement, Raphael, Lily, and I went through all her belongings. I didn't find a single _book_ in there. Just a whole bunch of messed up shit that shouldn't belong to anybody sane."

"Magnus doesn't make mistakes, Si. He sounded very, very sure. Besides, she wouldn't be dumb enough to hide such an important book in plain sight. I'm telling you, Camille has the Book of the White and we gotta talk to her so she can tell us where the book is. We can finally wake my mom up." Her lips quivered. "I can't bear to see her like this, Simon. It feels so wrong. She looks _dead_."

"But Clary..." Simon protested weakly.

Logically, he knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to grab her hand and tell her that he was in. Jocelyn was important to him. She was _family_.

She was the one who bandaged his knees after he had scrapped them while playing soccer. She was the one who held him and let him cry on her shoulders when his dad was _gone_ gone and his mother was far too lost in her broken daydreams to even care anymore. She was the one who baked gluten-free cookies for him every time he stayed up late to cram for his final exams. She came to all his gigs and cheered him on even though his band sounded like crap most of the time.

Jocelyn mattered to him just as much as she did to Clary. So what was stopping him? Why was this voice in his head telling him to back off?

"Alright," Simon conceded, pushing the voice back down. "Assuming that Camille does have the book, what are you gonna do about it? What's the plan? Cuz I'm telling you, Raphael's not gonna let you just waltz into the Hotel and leave after taking whatever you want. The Hotel is Vampire territory. No Shadowhunters allowed."

Clary seemed faintly surprised, like she hadn't been expecting him to agree with her. Which was ridiculous. He would follow her to the end of the world if she asked him to.

"Izzy says that we shouldn't care about stuff like that. We are Shadowhunters after all. We are entitled," Clary confessed. "We could just crash into Hotel Dumort like last time and threaten Raphael to tell us where the book is. If that doesn't work, we can go down to the basement and see Camille herself while Izzy distracts Raphael. Camille won't be able to refuse a Shadowhunter. She has _gotta_ tell us where the book is."

Simon was shocked. Horrified. Appalled.

"What the hell, Clary? What about The Accords? That's so _not_ a plan. That's not going to work. Not at all."

Clary looked put out, her brows furrowing as her shoulders slumped forward in disappointment. " _Why_?" she whined.

"Because Camille...doesn't work like that. She is going to understand how desperate we are for the Book of the White and she won't give up information that easily. Even if you put a seraph blade to her neck. She's gonna try and bargain or something. And there's nothing that we can give her, not really. You would just end up getting in trouble with Raphael for breaking The Accords."

Clary was quiet for a while after that, silently gathering her thoughts as she sipped her coffee. For once in his entire life, Simon welcomed the silence with open arms.

"There is one thing that we can offer her," she said, holding the coffee mug so hard that Simon was half afraid that it would break. "Her freedom."

Simon was already shaking his head to express his dissent. No matter how you looked at it, _that_ was an even crazier idea. "Nope. Not happening."

But Clary was right. At present, there was nothing Camille would want more than her freedom. She was locked in a coffin, starved, and in an extremely weakened state. In her eyes, a stupid spellbook wasn't gonna be worth the trouble.

Still. Letting Camille go would _ruin_ him. Going behind the Clan's back, _betraying_ them—there was no way Simon was going to do that, not after everything they had done for him.

Besides, betraying them would mean automatic expulsion from the Clan, and he wasn't strong enough to survive without a Clan. Not yet.

"Oh, come on, Si," Clary wailed, pushing her bangs back in frustration. "Don't be such a killjoy."

"Clary, don't take this as a joke."

"I am not. This is my mom we are talking about. I _have to_ save her," Clary said, her voice rising with every syllable.

But no, Simon wasn't gonna back down so easily.

"Clary, get your head out of your ass and just try and _think_ about this with a clear head. Freeing Camille just to get a stupid spell book won't solve anything."

"It could wake my mom up!"

"Yeah, but at what cost? There are too many holes in this. Just _think_. First of all," he said, counting off on his fingers to validate his points. "Camille is a sneaky bitch. There's a high chance that she would just play us like pawns until she gets what she wants and then disappear without telling us the book's location."

The voice in his head was getting louder now. Gradually, his instincts were starting to be accompanied by logic and reason too. "Two, she's obviously not going to be pleased with Raphael for replacing her as the Clan Leader. Once she's out, she's free to do anything to Raphael. If she kills him–"

It's true, he didn't know the first thing about vampire politics. All he did know was that the very thought of Raphael dying left a bad taste in his mouth, his stomach swooping down like he was falling off a cliff.

"–then she will just go back to being an evil Clan Leader again."

"Who the hell cares, Simon?" Clary said, throwing her hands up in the air. "If she wants to be the Clan Leader, then let her be. How would that affect us?"

"It will affect _me_. I am a part of the Clan too, remember?" Simon said, his mouth set in a tight line. At least, Clary had the decency to look away. "Or did you forget that I was a vampire too?"

He closed his eyes and mentally counted up to ten. "Third, we are both talking about the same Camille, right? The cold, villainous criminal with no moral values whatsoever? Once she's free, she's gonna wreck havoc in the entire New York City, preying on innocent mundanes, ruining their lives for fun. Or even worse, Turning them. Becoming a vampire was the worst thing that happened to me. I don't want anyone else going through the same thing. Not even my worst enemies."

"So what do I do, huh? Just give up on my mom? Let her stay in a coma? Not dead but not quite alive either?" Clary asked, mincing out the words. Her whole body was vibrating with tension.

When Simon tried to comfort her, she shrugged him off, pointedly looking away from him.

Distantly, he realized that they were _fighting_. It had been so long since they fought on something so serious that he had actually forgotten what it felt like; the gnawing sensation clawing at his chest, his lips itching to apologize and set things right again, even if it wasn't his fault.

"No, Clary. I could never ask you to give up on Jocelyn. She's my family too," Simon said in a fierce whisper. He scooted closer to her and began rubbing slow, comforting circles on her lower back, trying to assuage her pain. This time, she didn't flinch away.

If The Fates were cruel enough to ask Simon to choose between his family and The Clan, then he was going to be selfish enough to try and find a way to save both of them.

"I could talk to Raphael."

Clary was staring at him like he had just sprouted another head. " _Raphael_? Raphael Santiago?"

Yeah okay, he knew that it was a bad idea. But couldn't Clary have just a little more faith in him?

Simon nodded sombrely. "Nobody knows Camille better than Raphael. If there's anybody who can pry the answers out of her without putting us in any mortal danger, it's him. I could try and convince him to help us wake Jocelyn up."

Clary stroked her chin thoughtfully, understanding dawning on her as she gradually caught up with what Simon had in mind. "Are you sure?"

Simon knew what she was trying to say; Raphael hated Camille, and he hated the Shadowhunters even more. It's not like the Clan Leader owed him any favors either. So Simon asking him to help was pretty much a suicide mission.

But Clary was looking at him with so much hope and conviction, her eyes no longer bleak and lifeless, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips, that Simon couldn't bring himself to say no.

"Yeah, I am sure."

* * *

"Guys, we need to wake Jocelyn up."

Raphael looked up from his paperwork—his dreadful, mind-numbing, and ridiculously tedious paperwork—and fixed the fledgling with the most fearsome, unnerving glare he could muster.

As expected, it worked perfectly. The cretinous little brat took a hasty step back, holding his hands up to ward off any danger.

"I am sorry, fledgling. Would you mind repeating yourself?" Raphael asked, giving him a wry smile. "I thought I heard you say that you wanted _us_ to wake Jocelyn Morgenstern up."

Simon gulped nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, that's the plan."

Raphael arched a perfectly lined eyebrow. "I see. Tell me then, why should Jocelyn's wellbeing concern me?"

"Well, if you put it like that, it doesn't," the fledgling relented, looking down as he toed the carpets with a sneaker-clad foot.

Raphael's precious carpets gifted to him by Rashida, the Clan Leader of Saudi Arabia, twenty years ago. He resisted the urge to fling a paperweight at the fledgling's head.

Of course, Simon couldn't care less about Raphael's beloved carpets. His smile was blinding, heartbreakingly innocent. "But wouldn't it be such a _nice_ thing to do?"

Behind him, Lily, who was standing by the numerous bookshelves that lined the walls of his office, snorted loudly. Simon's eyes widened and he jerked back, as if he was seeing Lily for the first time since he strode into Raphael's office.

Raphael sighed. He wished Simon would take his training more seriously. 

It took Simon a moment to regain his bearings. He smiled and waved at Lily, albeit a bit hesitantly. She chuckled good-naturedly and waved back. For reasons that were beyond Raphael, his second-in-command appeared to be rather fond of the little troublemaker.

But Raphael was unfazed. "Stop wasting my time, fledgling. Is there any particular reason why I should trouble myself over Mrs. Morgenstern's health?"

Simon took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, his feet digging into the carpets like he was physically restraining himself from running away.

"Yes, Raphael. We have a very good, very solid reason to invest our time on this particular problem," he said, assuming an air of diplomatic importance.

Raphael leaned back in his wing back leather chair, folding his arms over his chest. The fledgling kept saying ' _us_ ' over and over again. Did he really think that they were going to agree with whatever harebrained scheme that he decided to come up with this time? "Do tell."

"Well," Simon began, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "For starters, Jocelyn is Valentine's wife, right? His biggest weakness. She probably knows him way more than anybody else. Waking her up would give us a major advantage in this war. It could help us predict his next move and, you know, _prepare_. Or whatever."

At this, even Lily put down whatever file she was looking through and turned towards Simon, trying to gauge his true intentions. Raphael didn't know who he was trying to fool. He surely didn't know the first thing about war or battle strategies.

"Baby, I don't know what got into you all of a sudden," she said, walking over to where Raphael was sitting. She leaned against his desk. "But why this sudden interest in Valentine? And more importantly, what makes you think that we care?"

Simon opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it again, glancing skittishly between both of them.

Finally, in a low, terse voice, he said, "We _should_ care about Valentine. He hates Downworlders; that means _us_. Once he's done gathering his stupid Shadowhunter army, he's gonna come for us next. That makes Valentine our problem too."

Raphael shrugged indifferently, turning his attention back to his paperwork. "This isn't the first time that we Downworlders have to face the brunt of the Shadowhunters' petty battles. All the discrimination that we face, the blood spilled every day in the name of justice–it's nothing new. After a while, you start getting used to it."

"Oh come on now! Don't you wanna, like, _not_ get used to it? I am only 18 years old. I am too young to die."

Lily hummed noncommittally, looking grim and unhappy. "Believe me, baby. If there was something we could do about it, we would have done it already. For now, the best thing to do is to stay put and hope that Valentine drops down dead somewhere along the way." 

Simon shook his head vehemently, coming forward to rest his palms on the table. His eyes were desperate and anxious. "No, you don't understand. _Please_ listen to me," he pleaded. "I need your help to wake Jocelyn up."

It dawned on Raphael suddenly, why Simon was acting so strangely now. His random, newly discovered interest in the war, his concern for the safety of his fellow vampires. The fledgling had never bothered about any of that before. So there was only one reason for this sudden change of mind.

"It's the redhead, isn't it?" Raphael asked, fighting to keep the anger out of his voice. "You don't give two shits about Valentine or all the Downworlders who are dying at his hands. But your precious Shadowhunter friend misses her mommy very much and you can't _bear_ to see her so sad. Like a hopeless puppy that's desperate to please his master, you jump at the first chance to impress her. And worse, you are bringing us down with you."

Lily shot a sharp sideways glance at him, her eyes admonishing and reproachful. She shook her head minutely. _Give him a chance, Raph. I'm sure he has a reasonable explanation._

Raphael ignored her. She was obviously letting her fondness and affection for the fledgling cloud her judgment. Simon was trying to _use_ them—like weapons or toys.

"It's not like that, Raphael," Simon said, sounding hurt. "I mean, yeah, Clary needs my help to wake Jocelyn up and I need your help to do that. But you are wrong about everything else. I _do_ care about Valentine. I have already seen the true extent of his damage. I want to stop him, I want to stop being afraid of him. And waking Jocelyn up could be our only way out."

Raphael scoffed disbelievingly.

But Simon didn't stop talking. He never did. "I brought Valentine up to remind you that though we are doing it for different reasons, we have a common goal. A common enemy."

Something about Simon's demeanor changed then. He was no longer the clumsy boy who tripped over his own words sometimes but a different man altogether, one that had a family to save and look out for. A man who would stop at nothing to keep that family safe.

"We both need to wake Jocelyn up. You, because you have a Clan to protect and me because..."

"Because?" Lily asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Because it's been ages since I've seen my own mother. Already, I am beginning to forget her face, her favorite dress, the vegetables in her kitchen garden. I don't want Clary to experience that kind of pain. If there's an actual chance to save her mother, I am going to take it."

"How sentimental," Raphael said, addressing him in the same formal, crisp tone he used when he spoke to other Clan Leaders or Downworlder representatives. "Unfortunately, I know nothing about magical comas. And I assure you, there's nobody in this Clan with the knowledge that exceeds that of the Silent Brothers."

"I know. But that's not what we are looking for," Simon said, offering him a tight-lipped smile. "Clary says that she needs a spellbook called The Book of the White. It has the cure to save Jocelyn."

"We don't have the Book of the White either, if that's what you are wondering," Raphael said, gnashing his teeth together. He wished he could somehow turn back time and make it so that he never existed in the first place. "I have never even heard of the blasted thing before."

"Yeah, maybe," Simon said in a slow, cautious tone, like he was approaching a wild animal. "But Camille has it."

For several minutes after Simon uttered Camille's name, a crippling atmosphere of deafeningly loud silence ensued in Raphael's office. His mind flashed back to his arduous past, an entire lifetime of trouble and suffering devoted to fixing Camille's mistakes, striving desperately to protect the Clan, to prevent her from leading them astray.

Simon must have read the look on his face. "Magnus says that the book's current owner is Camille," he said in a placating manner. Raphael was suddenly reminded of a hunter coaxing his prey into a trap. "I know she's in the basement now, locked up in a coffin. Even if we do wake her up and ask her to hand over the book, she's gonna refuse."

Even in her extremely weakened state, her twisted mind would scramble to gain purchase, to bargain for something in her own interest. And currently, the only thing that could interest her was her freedom.

It had taken him such a long time to finally trample Camille under his feet, years of meticulous planning, all the precautions he had taken, all the sleepless days he had spent in his room scheming and plotting for her demise.

And now, this fledgling had the balls to come and stand in front of him, demanding him to undo everything he had worked so hard for, to release a monster that would haunt them for the rest of their immortal lives.

" _How dare you_?" Raphael thundered, biting off the words. "After everything she has done, everything she put you through, you are still going to—"

"Okay, that's enough, you two. This is getting awk- _ward_ ," Lily piped in, her shrill light-hearted laughter seemed to bulldoze right into Raphael, effectively cutting him off before he lost his temper and tossed the impudent little shit into the nearest patch of sunlight.

She placed her hands on her hips and looked at Raphael disapprovingly, wordlessly reprimanding him for being so needlessly dramatic.

Yeah, whatever. His dramatics could totally be justified in this case.

"As interesting as this conversation is," Lily said. "I can't stay. I just remembered that I had a date."

"You do?" Simon asked at the exact time that Raphael said, "No you don't. You don't even have a boyfriend."

Lily hadn't dated anyone since her Soulmate, Ricky West, died in 1978, after suffering from leukemia for almost three years. She was obviously just trying to weasel out of the awkward, but intense, argument that was going to follow.

Lily smiled conspiratorially. "Yeah, I do. His name is Zeke and I'm deeply in love with him. It's a very important date that we spent _years_ planning for. So I really can't afford to mess it up. Sorry boys." She snapped her folder shut, sending a cloud of dust flying around them. "Have fun!"

And with that, Lily—his trusted second-in-command, his partner in crime, the woman he respected more than anyone else in the whole Clan—beamed at them one last time before prancing out of his office, leaving Raphael alone to deal with the fledgling.

Backstabber. Traitor. Shameless double-crosser.

On the way to the doors, she whipped her phone out and pressed it to her ears, looking bored, impassive but self-assured. "Hey, Zeke. Guess what? Today's your lucky day, honey...That's right, you get to go on date with me! Isn't that _nice_?"

Judging by the agitated grumbling and the array of colorful obscenities on the other end, Raphael could tell that Zeke didn't consider himself so lucky. But Lily pressed on; she couldn't care less. "What?... I don't care if it's your mother's death anniversary...Oh, come on. You are almost one hundred and fifty-six years old. Grow up, Zeke."

That was the last thing Raphael heard before she slipped out of his office, slamming the door behind her. Her movements were sharp and swift.

Lucky bitch.

With a long-suffering sigh, Raphael turned his attention back to the fledgling. His anger had considerably abated by now. But he was still upset, _stunned,_ that Simon could even suggest such an outrageous notion. Did the redhead matter so much to him that even in the face of life-threatening danger, he couldn't possibly think of anything else but pleasing her?

Simon was staring right back at him, his eyes lidded and thoughtful. "You think that I'm still in love with her. You think that I'm doing this to impress her."

"That thought did cross my mind. Correct me if I'm wrong."

Simon drew himself to his full height, jerking his chin up. "No, I am _not_ in love with her. She's my best friend and in all the ways that count, my sister. My _family_ ," he said. "Don't worry. I am not going to ask you to set Camille free either. I'm not that stupid, you know. Releasing Camille—even if it's to save Jocelyn—would just come back to bite me in the ass later on. I am not taking any risks."

Hearing Simon say that brought Raphael much relief. He hadn't known how worried he had been, his thoughts stretched out like a taut string, ready to snap any moment now. But, thank God, the fledgling wasn't that much of a lost cause. The metal fist clutching his belly loosened its grip.

"Then what are you going to do? Because let me tell you something, if you and your little Shadowhunter friend go down there and wake Camille up, she is not going to give you the answers you are looking for unless you pay a hefty price. She wants her freedom and she won't settle for anything less."

Simon nodded sagely. "Exactly. That's why I have a _plan_ ," he said, his eyes lighting up, looking as exuberant as a toddler. "Like you said, Clary and I will go down to the basement, ask for The Book of the White, and when she asks for her freedom, we let her go!"

Huh? 

"We _what_?!" Raphael exclaimed, jumping to his feet, his chair screeching. "Are you out of your goddammed MIND?"

Simon stepped back involuntarily, his arms flailing. "What I meant to say was: we let her _think_ that we let her go. We let her _think_ that I betrayed the Clan for her, that I am still loyal to her," Simon amended sheepishly. "We let her _think_ that she's won."

Raphael felt his phantom heart contract painfully in his chest. The metal fist was back in full force.

It was absurd, almost laughable. He hadn't felt like this even once since his Turning, and now after a certain bumbling fledgling came crashing into his life, it's all he could ever feel. A deep-seated fear for his safety, an unbearable urge to keep him out of harm's way. "What good would that do for us?"

"She's going to let her guard down. Once she's free, she's going to obviously run towards the exit. You know, to get out of the Hotel. That's where you, Lily, Stan, and Elliot come in."

Raphael collapsed back in his chair, motioning for Simon to continue. He already had an inkling of what was going to follow.

"After giving me and Clary the book's location, when Camille comes running for the exit, you and the other vampires are going to be ready for her. Four against one. You can easily tackle her and drag her back to the basement or whatever. See?" Simon grinned victoriously. "Problem solved."

Raphael began to massage his temples. He could sense the onset of a splitting headache. "It's not going to be as easy as you are making it sound."

Simon deflated like a pricked balloon. "Why?"

"Because for one, there are _several_ exits in the Hotel," Raphael said. "You are only considering the main exit; the north exit. What about the east, west, and south exits? Not to mention, there are almost twenty secret exits and hidden tunnels as well. She could use any one of them. In fact, the main exit would be her least likely choice."

Simon appeared to consider the problem. "Fine. But there are about a hundred vampires in the Clan and twenty secret exits. So if you post about four vampires per exit—"

"We will be able to handle Camille easily enough," Raphael completed, sounding impressed. Not bad.

For the first time, he looked at the fledgling— _actually_ looked at him, allowing himself to take in the compelling warmth in his eyes; a rich chocolate brown with specks of hazel and gold in them, and the dimpled smile, so infectious that Raphael couldn't count just how many times he had to look away lest the fledgling's smile ensorcelled him enough to make him smile too.

The very idea of Raphael letting his guard down and laughing, actually _laughing_ at one of Simon's ridiculous jokes made him want to crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

_God forbid_.

The fledgling was still talking, wiggling his shoulders as his hips swayed; he appeared to be doing some sort of...victory dance? Or was this some kind of ancient ritual? _Dios_ , he could never tell when it came to the fledgling.

Without meaning to, the corners of his mouth quirked up and he leaned forward to rest his face in his hands, sighing contentedly as he observed the fledgling launch into another ramble about whatever topic he was currently fixated on.

_Idiota._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! 
> 
> Welcome to my Shadowhunters debut fic. Since this is the first fic that I am actually posting online, please go easy on me. If you notice any mistakes or discrepancies, or if you just wanna let me know what you think about this fic, don't hesitate to talk to me in the comments. I will always be glad to hear from you. 
> 
> Also, this fic is mostly completed, which means I will be updating every Friday/Saturday. 
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading this.
> 
> Until next time,  
> Sandra.


	2. The Catastrophe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fledgling's plan was a good plan. Theoretically, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be a _little_ graphic. So if you are not comfortable with that kind of stuff, then feel free to skip from _"Raphael looked around and saw that the poisoned arrow..."_ to _"carrying in his back pocket"_
> 
> If you happen to notice anything else, or if you think that I should include any more warnings, then please let me know in the comments.
> 
> _  
> _This chapter might get a little complicated too. Just a little. I tried my best to simplify it but in the end, there was only so much I could do without straying away from the original plot._  
> _
> 
> _  
> _I apologize in advance.__  
> 

As per Simon's plan, they had assembled all the hundred and four vampires that were currently living at the Hotel and had divided them into twenty-six groups of four vampires each.

It hadn't been an easy task. Not all vampires living at the Hotel were fighters. Some of them had doubts going against such a formidable foe. Some of the older, more conventional vampires had instantly snubbed the idea of a rebellion, especially one that was fuelled by Shadowhunters and fledglings.

But, Raphael, along with Lily, Stan, and Elliot, had managed to reason with all of them and garner their approval. They had worked hard all night, going over several possibilities, trying to come up with various strategies and scenarios.

Irfana Shahid, who had been a prodigious mechanic in her time, had already installed various booby traps at different locations in the Hotel. Shikha Chowdhury, her wife, who specialized in botany and phytotoxicology had developed an array of venomous potions and concoctions in which they were told to dip their weapons in. They were poisonous enough to immobilize or paralyze Camille, but not enough to kill her.

They had agreed to carry out the plan during the day so Camille wouldn't be able to escape easily. Each vampire had done their part, eager to uproot the threat before it got out of hand. By dawn, they had managed to take care of most of the obstacles. As far as Raphael was concerned, only one problem remained.

There were still certain vampires in the Clan who refused to accept Raphael's authority. They disapproved of his methods and argued that Camille was the better leader and their rightful queen. In return, Raphael had only flipped them off, _politely_ asking them to return to whatever task they were assigned to.

Later that night, Lily had approached him with a complete list of all the vampires that she suspected of treason. And then, they had carefully distributed the traitors among the twenty-six groups such that there would always be one or less traitor per group.

Or at least, they had _tried_ to.

"It's Group NM1 that I'm the most worried about," Lily said, twirling her crossbow idly.

Lily, along with Raphael, Irfana, and Shikha, was a part of Group NS14 tasked with guarding the 14th secret exit, located in the north-west direction. North Secret exit Number 14.

The group Lily had been uneasy about was the one assigned to the North Main exit Number 1 or NM1. The reason was this: it was the group with the most number of traitors. 

Both Lauren Dennel and Yasha Sokolo were ardent followers of Camille. They were sharp and intense, and they did very little to mask their hatred for the new Clan Leader. Raphael and Lily had tried their best, but there was no way they could separate them without jeopardizing the whole formation.

Raphael tried to derive comfort from the fact that there were other non-traitorous vampires in the group as well. Zeke and Arima Kunio were both well-built, quick-witted, and vigilant. Raphael trusted them and earnestly believed that they were capable enough to deal with Lauren and Yasha in case things do go down south.

Yet, an uncomfortable feeling lingered in his guts, no matter how hard he tried to squash it.

Raphael tilted his neck sideways and stretched his limbs, sighing as he cracked his knuckles. They had been standing in the same position for over 45 minutes now. Downstairs in the basement, the redhead and Simon were still conversing with Camille, trying to strike a deal that wouldn't throw them off track.

"Don't worry, Lily," he said, reaching over to pat her back reassuringly. "The main exit would be too obvious, too far. Even Camille is smart enough to pick a less guarded exit."

The 14th secret exit that his group was guarding was the riskiest exit. It was the one closest to the basement and led to a secret tunnel that would emerge on the other side of New York City in a matter of a few minutes. The most convenient exit and thus the one Camille was most likely to choose instead.

"Can we go over the plan one more time, please?" Irfana asked. She was a comparatively younger vampire who had fled from her home country several decades ago, running away from her family who were going to slash her throat for refusing to marry a man forty years older than her.

Raphael nodded, uncrossing his arms. The plan itself was concise and easy to follow. Theoretically, at least.

Step 1: Simon and the redhead would go down to the basement where Camille was held and demand the book's location.

Step 2: Once they obtain the required information, they would break the chains that bound Camille. Drunk on her newfound freedom and the exhilaration of sweet victory, the ex-Clan Leader would choose any one of the twenty-six exits in Hotel Dumort to make her escape, unaware that each exit would be guarded by a group of four vampires.

Step 3: On spotting Camille, they would immediately shoot at her with the poisoned darts that Shikha had given them.

Step 4: Once paralyzed, they would drag her down to the basement and lock her up once again.

Step 5: Victory Dance (Simon's idea. Not his.)

"It's a good plan," Shikha said after Raphael had finished explaining. Beside her, Lily and Irfana hummed their assent. "But I'm a little concerned for Simon. I wish he didn't have to face Camille on his own."

_Dios, here we go again._

"Which is why _I_ said that it would be better if one of _us_ went along with him," Lily said, huffing angrily as she glowered at Raphael. They had had the same argument multiple times throughout the night. "He's still too young and inexperienced. What if something does happen to him?"

"No, we can not accompany him, Lily. It would look too suspicious." Raphael rolled his eyes, waving her concerns away. "Besides, he's not alone. Clarissa Morgenstern and Isabelle Lightwood are with him."

Valentine's daughter had arrived at Hotel Dumort a few hours before sunrise, Isabelle— _call me 'Izzy'—_ Lightwood close behind her heels. The redhead had stormed into the Conference Hall where the meeting was being held, her gaze skittering over the other vampires until it zeroed in on Simon.

Unable to explain away the sudden twinge of jealousy that erupted across his chest, Raphael had simply watched her bound over to where Simon was sitting and throw her arms over ~~his~~ the fledgling. Simon had caught her and hugged her back, gently leading them away to a quiet corner where he briefed them on the plan.

_You think that I'm still in love with her. You think that I'm doing this to impress her._

_Correct me if I am wrong._

Raphael had to pinch the tender part on the underside of his forearm to bring himself back to the present.

"It's true, Miss Morgenstern is still incompetent and inept, but Isabelle is an exceptional Shadowhunter," Raphael said tightly, ignoring the pangs of anxiety resounding in his head. "I have seen her take out demons ten times her size. She will be able to protect them both if the need arises."

"Maybe we should have accepted the werewolves' help?" Lily questioned. "They seemed sincere enough."

After hearing their plans, Isabelle had called up her Soulmate, Maia Roberts, who had begrudgingly offered her pack's help, citing that Camille Belcourt was a common enemy. But Raphael had politely declined their offer knowing that he would only face further backlash for bringing lyncanthropes into something any Clan Leader should be able to handle with ease.

"Of course not," he said, frowning. "Camille would have sensed their stench ten miles away and realize that something was askew. We can't take that risk."

"Will we be able to pull it off?" Irfana wondered out loud, lacing her fingers around Shikha's. Their wedding bands glimmered in the low light of the underground exits. "Camille is... _Camille_. What if we get hurt? What if _Simon_ gets hurt?"

Though he hated to admit it, a small part of Raphael was hoping that things would indeed go wrong. So Isabelle would have an excuse to finally put Camille down and get rid of all their problems, once and for all. Nobody would bat an eyelid if Camille's death was at the hands of a Shadowhunter. It was understandable, easily forgivable.

But a deeper, more repressed part of Raphael dreaded that possibility. Camille was Simon's Sire; killing her would hurt Simon too. The old Raphael wouldn't have paused for even a second. In the grand scheme of things, one fledgling's life shouldn't matter much.

But the current Raphael couldn't even fathom bringing Simon so much pain. The current Raphael was weak, fragile, and blindsided by ~~love~~ a promise he made to the redhead.

~~Raphael Santiago was in love.~~

Raphael Santiago kept his promises.

"Simon's going to be okay," Raphael said after a long moment of silence.

Shikha and Irfana glanced up at him. A flash of understanding passed between them and they nodded. They were probably thinking the same thing that he was, that Simon was not the type that gave up so easily, that he would fight tooth and nail to keep the ones he loved safe. 

(Of course, it stung that Raphael and his Clan were not on that list. He didn't know why it mattered.)

They knew that Isabelle and Clarissa may be Shadowhunters but they cared enough about Simon—despite him being a vampire—to watch over him and ensure that he got out in one piece.

The four of them smiled. _Everything was going to be okay._

* * *

They passed the next ten minutes or so in relative silence, each vampire left to their own thoughts. Raphael had been surprisingly restless the whole time; sharpening and re-sharpening their daggers, inspecting the crossbows, revising their strategies, considering any variables that they hadn't taken into account before, studying all the cracks and crevices in the walls that surrounded them.

  
It had been more than an hour since Simon went down to the basement with the redhead. Despite his earlier assurances, Raphael was still worried. Very, very worried. Sure, Simon was clever, resilient, and quick on his feet. But if something were to happen to Simon, wouldn't it be Raphael's fault?

What was the last thing he had said to Simon? He couldn't remember now, but it was surely something mean and hurtful. Perhaps, he should have said something kinder, more meaningful. He should have—

" _Shh_. I can hear something," Lily spoke up suddenly, her whole body tensing up. Raphael's blood turned to ice. "Listen, the voices are getting louder."

Raphael listened. Sure enough, his sensitive vampire hearing was beginning to pick up on the agitated voices of the Shadowhunters, the smug, condescending words that Camille spoke, and beneath all of it, the muffled, husky sound of Simon's voice. They were quarreling, working themselves up to a frenzy. Simon sounded desperate, unsure.

And finally, the voices died out; they must have reached some sort of agreement. If Raphael's heart was still beating, it would have soared up when he heard the low, barely audible _clang_ of Camille's chains falling to the ground, the grating sound of the metal shackles striking the cold, hard floor.

They had done it. Simon and the Shadowhunters had finally freed Camille. And now they were racing towards the exit, climbing up the stairs with hasty, wide strides. Raphael jumped to his feet, his body moving on its own accord as he readied himself for the battle that was coming their way. Without turning back, he signaled the others to follow suit.

"I can hear her now. She's heading our way," Lily stated, her words hushed and cautioning. She raised her loaded crossbow upwards, her right leg planted behind her left as she got into a fighting stance. Behind them, Irfana and Shikha mirrored her movements, holding onto their daggers, both of them straining to listen to Camille's movements. "She's choosing the north exits."

"Yeah, but which one?" Shikha asked, "There are two secret exits in the north. The 14th and the 15th secret exit. Not to mention, the main exit. Which one is she going to choose?"

Raphael shook his head and held up a finger, patiently waiting for them to quieten down. His face scrunched up in concentration, trying to assess the situation as best as he could.

From the faint rustle of dresses and the clicking of Camille's heels against the floorboards, he could tell that Camille was in the lead, Simon and the Shadowhunters a few meters away. From their frantic breathing, he could tell that they were struggling to keep up with Camille's superior vampire speed. Her lofty, empty-headed laughter echoed in the empty hallways as she taunted them, snapped at them to hurry up lest she left without them. Raphael couldn't help but notice how easily she sidestepped all the booby traps Irfama had placed in the way.

"She just passed by the door of the 15th Secret Exit. So we can cross that off our list," Irfana whispered.

Camille had reached the part where the hallways branched off; the right path leading to the 14th exit— _their_ exit, and the left path leading to the North Main exit where her followers were waiting for her.

_Even Camille is smart enough to pick a less guarded exit._

Raphael closed his eyes and tried to shut off his surroundings, focusing solely on Camille's footsteps, her repugnant, sickly-sweet scent. In his mind's eye, he saw Camille hesitate at the crossroads, scrutinizing each path, carefully weighing the benefits and the risks. Simon and Clarissa close behind her heels, out of breath and anxious.

Camille took a step forward, her feet inclined towards the left.

Simon, Clarissa, and Isabelle were watching each movement with bated breath.

Camille turned towards the left, hesitated for another moment...

_Even Camille is smart enough to pick a less guarded exit._

Except _,_ Raphael thought helplessly _,_ they were wrong. The North Main exit that lay on her left was exactly the kind of less guarded exit that Camille had been looking for.

_Even Camille—_

And then she was sprinting towards the North Main exit, cackling deliriously while she headed straight for Group NM1, the doorway to her freedom. 

In the distance, he heard Simon let out a cry of despair as he scrambled to stop Camille. Clarissa and Isabelle cursing softly under their breath as they were left behind in the dust; even with their strength and stamina runes, they were no match for vampire speed.

Camille had seen right through their plans, the weakest point in their defenses, the crack in their armor. They had miscalculated. They had underestimated Camille Belcourt. Somehow, she _knew_. She just _knew_ who was on the other side.

Lauren and Yasha, her followers. Eager to please, firm in their loyalty.

Zeke and Arima, innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire.

She _knew_.

"Shit," Lily muttered. And then in a louder voice, "Shit. _Shit_."

"There's no time to waste," Raphael yelled, tossing the crossbow aside as he began running towards the North Main exit. "We must hurry. Come on! Move!"

The others began running too, but Raphael barely paid any attention. In the span of a few minutes, he was at the crossroads. 

He turned towards the left, Lily and the others right by his side. He vaguely remembered running past Clarissa and Isabelle, both of them panting with the exertion. In the distance, he heard a hoarse male voice cry out in pain and another voice let out a sharp grunt of surprise, a muffled thud—the sound of a body falling down. 

Camille's scent was getting stronger and stronger with every step he took. Beneath that pungent and distasteful scent, he could sense the fledgling's presence only a few steps behind Camille.

Choking past the apprehension in his throat, Raphael turned around another corner and this is what he saw.

Camille standing at the door of the North Main exit, dressed in red from head to toe, her painted lips stark and unsettling compared to her ashen pallor, her expression a picture of righteous innocence. She was flanked by Lauren on her right and Yasha on her left, both of them smirking triumphantly. Camille held a crossbow in her hands but it was not loaded.

Raphael looked around and saw that the poisoned arrow that was meant to paralyze Camille was now lodged in Zeke's right thigh. He was lying on the floor, face down and unmoving. A few meters away, Arima was slumped against Simon's body, his shirt soaked with blood.

Simon was panicking, his trembling hands pressing down on Arima's wound to stop the blood flow. Raphael wanted to help him, wanted to gather Arima's body and take him to the infirmary before it was too late. At the same time, he wanted to rush over to Zeke's side, pull out the arrow, and give him the antidote that he was carrying in his back pocket.

But Camille and her minions were standing right in front of him, their fangs and claws out, poised to attack. They couldn't step _out_ of the Hotel because of the sunlight so he still had a chance. Even if it was three against one, he had a _chance_.

Raphael took a step forward and hissed, his fangs slipping down from their sheaths. He opened his mouth to say something disarming, but before he had the chance to do so, he saw Camille slip a gold ring on her index finger. The ring had some sort of inscription engraved on its outer surface in a foreign language unfamiliar to Raphael.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw that the others had arrived as well. Lily was tending to Zeke's wounds while Irfana and Shikha were taking care of Arima. The fledgling was stuttering, no doubt shocked at the violence and carnage unfolding right in front of him.

Raphael pushed down the uneasiness crowding in his belly and took another step forward, lunging for Camille. The female vampire smiled diabolically. She twisted the ring around her finger, the unfamiliar letters glowing in the dark. The door behind her seemed to ripple and shimmer, its surface changing color from a muted spruce to that of an electric mauve color.

A portal.

Camille had somehow conjured a portal for herself. 

Tossing one last shit-eating grin at them, she stepped through the portal, Lauren and Yasha close behind her heels. The portal glimmered once, twice, and slowly shrunk back on itself, leaving a devastated Raphael back at the Hotel. He wasn't able to do anything but stare at the door helplessly, knowing that Camille had slipped right through his fingers. Again.

They had failed.

No, that can't be right. _He_ had failed. He had failed his Clan. He had failed Simon, who still woke up from nightmares screaming Camille's name until his voice turned hoarse with strain. He had failed to do his duty as a Clan leader and most of all, he had failed the hundreds of innocent mundanes who were going to pay the price at Camille's hands, who would lose their lives and their families to Camille's addiction, emerging from their graves knowing nothing but bloodlust and madness.

Raphael Santiago. Was. A failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... that happened. Y'all probably thought that the Camille problem would take care of itself since the betrayal never happened. 
> 
> But it didn't. 
> 
> Of course, it goes without saying that Camille escaping was totally, absolutely, 100% NOT Raphael's fault. Raphael Santiago is NOT a failure. He's an amazing, super talented vampire who deserves the world and more.
> 
> But Raphael always seemed like the kind of character who is too hard on themselves. I am not a huge fan of self-loathing but I really wanted to explore that side of Raphael. I want this fic to be realistic. Even though this fic is canon-diverging, I wanted it to be as canon-compliant as possible.
> 
> Hopefully, things don't stay this dark forever. My boys are gonna get through this. They are gonna get better, I promise. 
> 
> Also, don't forget to leave comments and kudos, if you liked the story.
> 
> Until next time,  
> Sandra


	3. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camille is gone, leaving Raphael and his Clan to pick up the broken pieces and try to fix their mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because my IQ level is basically 0, it took me a while to realize that though the tags say that this is a Soulmate AU fic, I had never actually stated the finer details regarding the whole Soulmates concept. Each Soulmate fic is different in its own way. I should have been more specific. 
> 
> It's the same basic idea. Everyone has a fated Soulmate; their chosen one whose name will appear on their skin as their Soulmark. But some people get their Soulmarks when they are born. Some people get them later on when they grow up. Some get them the moment they meet their Soulmates for the first time. For others, their Soulmarks take a lot of time and energy before they are engraved on your skin.
> 
> As you probably inferred from the story, Jace and Clary know that they are Soulmates but can't do anything about it because, you know, incest. Izzy and Maia, Magnus, and Alec are doing well. There are obviously gonna be hiccups along the way but trust me, they can take care of it. 
> 
> Simon and Raphael aren't Soulmates yet. Neither of them has a Soulmark yet. Raphael has long given up on finding a Soulmate, while Simon is too young to lose hope. Neither of them really expect to be each other's Soulmates. Obviously. 
> 
> All in all, it's gonna be one hell of a ride, folks. Lots and lots of denial. Lots and lots of unnecessary angst. And some fluff to make things a bit better. We are all gonna have _so_ much fun!

Later, when they were in the infirmary, quietly waiting for Zeke and Arima to gain consciousness, it occurred to Raphael that he had never asked the Shadowhunters if they got what they came for.

"Oh yeah," Clarissa replied in a low tone when he asked her. "Camille gave us an address."

She was leaning her head against Simon's shoulders, her thumb absently stroking over his knuckles. Both of them, like Raphael and Lily, were seated on one of the spare beds in the infirmary. They looked exhausted and worn out. 

Then again, Raphael supposed, they were _all_ exhausted and weak with fatigue. None of them had slept much last night and it was almost midday now. He couldn't care less about the Shadowhunters, but any respectful vampire with enough common sense to fit half a brain should be in bed by now.

Clarissa fished in her pockets, took out a small white piece of paper, and handed it over to Raphael. Raphael took the paper and flipped it over. He nodded. "It's her apartment. Alucard building, Upper East Side."

"Why would she have an apartment if she already has the Hotel?" Isabelle asked. She was perched on top of the headboard, most of her weapons laid out on the bed and a long, glittering whip curled neatly around her wrists. "And how the hell did she know about the North Main exit? About Lauren and Yasha? Even the booby traps?"

Raphael sighed tiredly. The question had been bugging him for quite some time, though a part of him already knew the answer. It was so simple, so childishly obvious. It kept flashing in his mind, mocking him, and watching him squirm in shame. 

He should have anticipated it, should have seen it coming a mile away. He should have made all the necessary arrangements to prevent the catastrophe that had basically wrecked his family. 

"Clan bonds."

The dark-haired Shadowhunter stiffened, eyebrows shooting up. "I am sorry, what?"

Lily looked up and sighed. "Clan bonds. Each vampire in the Clan shares a special bond with the Clan Leader. It's a strong, powerful bond, one that cannot be easily trifled with. Camille must have used the Clan bond she shared with Lauren, Yasha, and the others to know where they were. She could tell that the North Main exit was in a vulnerable position and she used that information to her advantage."

Clarissa screwed up her eyes in confusion. "But I thought Camille wasn't your Clan Leader anymore. How did she use a bond that doesn't even exist?"

"It does exist," Raphael said. Ugh, Shadowhunters could be so insufferable sometimes. "For the vampires that are still loyal to her, _Camille_ is their leader, not me. They are still bonded with her, not me."

Clarissa nodded, her jaw working. There was a struggle taking place in her eyes, which for some reason, set Raphael on edge. What was the redhead up to now?

"And to answer your first question," Raphael said, warily. "Camille has many apartments scattered throughout the city. It's her safe house, her escape from the bindings of a Clan Leader. There, she doesn't have any rules to follow; she's free to kill or torture mundanes to her heart's content."

The Shadowhunters looked sick, but Raphael was too tired to even care. His mind kept drifting back to Zeke and Arima. Despite Shikha's reassurances, he was still worried for them, the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders. 

The whole thing was his fault. He had let Camille get away. She was right there, only a few feet away. He should have been faster, sharper, more observant. Now, it was too late and they were all going to have to face the consequences of his indecisiveness.

"I am sorry."

To Raphael's surprise, it was Simon who had spoken. The fledgling was gazing down at the floor, his eyes fixed on a particular spot, his ankles crossed, shoulders hunched. Raphael's head snapped up, surprised and caught off guard. 

Why was the _fledgling_ sorry?

Simon had been oddly quiet the whole day, his silence strange and unnerving. Raphael couldn't count how many times he had to glance behind him to check if Simon was still in the Hotel or not. Hearing him speak right now made something twist inside Raphael's chest. 

Simon took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I messed up. Big time. I didn't think that she would...I just—" His breath hitched, his eyes welling up a little. " _Shit_. I'm sorry. I know 'sorry' isn't going to fix this. But...I don't know what else to do. I just—" He broke off suddenly, pressing his palms to his eyes and using the pressure to ground him.

Raphael hesitated, his gaze shifting until he found Lily's. He bit his lip, silently begging her to intervene. He was never any good with words or feelings. He didn't know how to alleviate his pain or convince Simon that it wasn't his fault. If anything, Raphael was the one to blame here. He was the one who hesitated, who let the right opportunity slip through his fingers like an incompetent fool.

Lily glanced back at Simon, shuffling forward to rest her palm on Simon's hands, squeezing his hands gently. "Baby, it's not your fault."

Simon shook his head, his jaw tightening. "No, it was _my_ plan. Camille escaped, Zeke and Arima got hurt because of me. I...I am sorry."

"Come on now. Don't be like that," Lily cooed softly. "You made a mistake, everyone makes mistakes. Maybe you didn't consider all the possibilities, maybe you didn't act at the right time. That's okay. Happens to the best of us."

But Simon mustn't have registered her words. "This wouldn't have happened if I wasn't so selfish. I wish—if only I hadn't..." he trailed off, his eyes tearing over a bit as he grabbed fistfuls of his sweater, gripping them so tightly that his hands were shaking. 

He looked disgusted, Raphael realized with a jolt, not at them, but _himself_. Simon was disgusted at himself.

Raphael didn't know what came over him next, but he couldn't stand the raw pain and agony etched on Simon's features anymore. He stood up, stalked over to where Simon was sitting, and placed his hands on either side of his face, hooking a finger under his chin and tilting his face up.

"Simon." Raphael's eyes bore right through him. He wanted the fledgling to know that it wasn't his fault. Nothing good ever came out of playing a stupid blame game. "Stop being an idiot, you hear me?" Raphael demanded. Distantly, he wondered if he was being too harsh. But it couldn't be helped. The fledgling should _know_. "Your mistakes aren't unfixable."

Could Simon hear what he wasn't saying too? Would Simon be able to understand that the same fire of remorse raged in Raphael's heart too? The heavy feelings of guilt and shame and _regret_ were no stranger to him. Some days, darkness was all he saw and heard. The soundtrack to his daily routine.

"Raphael."

There was a strange, otherworldly warmth in Simon's eyes, so different from the bitter cold that had draped itself around his heart that Raphael felt drawn to it, and he didn't want to fight it. He wanted to take that warmth and lose himself in it. He wanted to wrap it around himself like a blanket. He wanted to go _home_.

_This was normal, right? Perhaps all Clan leaders felt like this when they looked at tgeir fledglings. Yeah, this was normal. Very, very normal._

Simon reached up and covered Raphael's hands in his own, his eyes lighting up with resolve and purpose. Yeah, the Simon he knew, and to a certain degree, admired, was back.

Raphael smiled, his defenses slipping away like the waves receding back in an ocean. Simon smiled back, pulling away and nodding.

_I am okay now. Thank you._

Satisfied, Raphael straightened up, his gaze falling on the redhead, who was regarding them with a sort of curious delight, her head tilted to the side and her hands clasped together in her lap.

Raphael sighed. "You got what you wanted, yes?" he asked, addressing both Clarissa and Isabelle. They nodded. He gestured towards the door. "Then please, it's time you leave to finish what you set out for." He extended his arm and shook Clarissa's hand. "Good luck."

She looked bewildered, but she nodded again, her head bobbing up and down. Raphael turned towards the other vampires. "As for the rest of you," he said. "There's nothing more we can do right now. It has been a long day, and a long night before that. We should rest."

Lily smiled, stifling a yawn. "I will arrange a Clan meeting tomorrow. We can discuss our next course of action then."

Well, that settled it. He turned to check on Zeke and Arima one last time before leaving, Simon and Lily right behind him. But before they could take a step further, out of nowhere, Clarissa jumped to her feet and planted herself in their way.

"Wait!" Clarissa blurted out abruptly, her voice several octaves higher than usual.

Simon glanced up, startled. The redhead stood rooted to her spot, her back ramrod straight, her hands clutching the note tightly. "I...I've been thinking about this a lot, and I've made up my mind." She took a step forward, her green eyes ablaze. "I am gonna help you track Camille down. And if it comes down to it, kill her too."

Silence.

Simon was the first to find his voice.

"Clary...w-wha?" he asked, stuttering a bit. "What are you talking about? What about Jocelyn?"

She seemed to hesitate at the mention of her mother, her eyes traveling down to the note she was holding. After a few more minutes of contemplation, she handed the note to Isabelle. The other Shadowhunter simply stared at it, not fully comprehending the situation.

"Iz," Clarissa said, with a coy smirk. "When I first met you, I kinda wanted to set your hair on fire cuz there was no way a human being could have hair that perfect."

Isabelle chuckled. "But?"

"But," Clary said, "I realized that there's more to you than just pretty hair and five-inch high heels. I found a friend in you, one that I can trust with my life." 

Clary pushed the note towards Isabelle again, more insistently this time. "What happened today, Camille getting away, Zeke and Arima getting hurt, that's _my_ fault. And if I don't do something to fix it, if I turn my back on them, then I am just gonna do what every single Shadowhunter before me had done. I don't want things to be like that. I am sure if my mom was in my place, she would have done the same."

She paused and took a deep breath. "Izzy, I know it's a lot to ask for. But I also know that I can trust you with my mother's life. You are so much stronger and more capable than I am. So while I help Simon and Raphael track Camille down, could you and Alec find the Book of the White at her apartment? Please?"

Isabelle looked stunned, her mouth opening and closing several times. Raphael didn't blame her. He was pretty floored too.

"Are you sure?" Isabelle asked, taking the note from her hands. "I can't do this unless you are a 100% sure."

Clarissa smiled. "Yeah, I am. I trust you."

She turned back in a slow circle and smiled warmly at Simon first, and then at Lily and Raphael. "I don't know what Simon told you," she added haughtily, tossing her curls over her shoulders. "But I am kinda super special, you know? I can help you track that monster down in no time."

Raphael frowned. "Vampires are untrackable. You can't use your runes to track the undead."

Clarissa only set her jaw and stared back, raising her eyebrows in defiance. "Yeah well, I told you, I am special. If there's no rune to track vampires, then I will just make one up myself. Don't worry."

Something shifted in Raphael's mind then, something huge and colossal. A _cosmic_ shift. The atmosphere changed dramatically, the planets and the stars must have finally aligned themselves in the right direction. Maybe Earth stopped rotating. Maybe the world was about to end.

What Clary was doing—a Shadowhunter going out of her way to join forces with the Night Children, even if it was out of respect for the deep and intricate bond that she shared with Simon—wasn't something that happened every day. Had the same thing happened a few months ago, he would have kicked the Shadowhunters out of his home and slammed the doors on their faces. But now...

 _A new generation of Shadowhunters_ , Magnus had told him only a few weeks ago. He had laughed at the warlock then. Easy for him to say. His Soulmate was a Shadowhunter.

But now, considering all that they had been through that day, the way the Shadowhunters had sided with them, how they had fought with and for them, he realized that things were indeed changing. The line between Downworlders and Shadowhunters was slowly withering away. For the first time in several decades, Raphael let himself hope.

In the incandescent light of the infirmary, the five of them—three vampires and two Shadowhunters—shared a look and smiled.

_Everything was going to be okay._


End file.
